A Means to an End
by Shade Ombre
Summary: In the 20th year of Queen Giggle's reign, tensions are rising. The empire is on the brink of civil war, innocents are disappearing in the night and there are rumors of an underground revolution brewing. Now, in these dark times, Toothy must discover the truth behind the crown, save his friends and family, and ultimatly save himself from those that want to see him dead and buried.


**A Storm Brews.**

_Happy Tree Town, 20 years into the reign of Her most brilliant Majesty Empress Giggles, Ruler of the Empire of the Half Breeds._

I hate the rain.

I rather prefer the bright sunshine to the storm that was battering the capital but, then again, what can one expect in the winter months of what the humans once called "Washington State"? It had been a particularly rainy winter this year, especially compared to the winter we had last year, during which I spent most of my time in the snow, and almost catching my death of hypothermia for my troubles. But that was in the past, and right now, I need to focus on the present. I don't normally think about the past, but on rare occasions, I get small pangs of nostalgia and start to dwell on what happened, and what could have been. But that doesn't matter. Not now. Not ever.

I began to pick up my pace as the ever growing storm got worse. I passed the various cafes and small shops that sold the latest papers and books that glorified the Empires-My empire-battles and wars. I was never interested in the military side of the Empires history, even back in school. Even now, I can only vaguely remember the details about the burning of Seattle, and I can only do that because my father was there. Everything else just went over my head.

After braving the storm for a few more long minutes, I decided on ducking into a doorway of a ruined shop, a victim in the riot that this street saw a few weeks ago. As I stand in the threshold of the shop, which used to sell human made goods if I remembered correctly, I got a good view on the large main street that ran up the centre of the city. The rain bounced off the roofs of the boutiques and designer cafes that were all the rage now in this city. I could see the statue in the main park, towering high over the shops. It was a statue of our Empress, made of bronze and marble, iron sword held aloft in victory and her soft features captured rather well by the cold materials. The statue was built to commemorate the decisive victory that she had over the Humans at battle of Denver, in which their-then current-president, a guy called Mitt or something, was killed. That was a glorious day for the Empire, but the only reason I remembered it was because of the massive parades that the palace holds in its memory. Just an excuse for a day long binge of alcohol and sex, if one asked any single one of my friends.

There was no one else in the street apart from me, and that was alright by my reckoning. I preferred it when it was quiet, although I guess that this rain is the price that I'm going to pay for a slice of silence. I sighed, and ran my wet hands through my wet purple hair while I felt the rain slide off my large beaver tail. I've always been both proud, and self-conscious, of it. This town didn't really have an abundance of beaver half breeds, and those that did live in this city would be seen dead with someone like me. I sighed again, thinking about why I was out in the rain. I needed to get to the Diner soon. My friend had called me, told me that he needed to see me about something important, although he hadn't specifically told me what. I leaned back against the signed door and just decided to wait for a few more minutes, just to see if the icy rain would let up. I wasn't going to hope. In the Empire, hope just ends you up in trouble, or in worse situations, such as being on the watch list of one of the parties. If you were on their watch list, then life was about to get a whole lot worse for you, and every one you love.

As if on cue at that moment, with my thoughts drifting to what I knew about the parties – which was little, by the way- a bunch of five blue and red clad half breeds came on to the main street from a small side alley, from the direction of the park, laughing and joking amongst themselves. They all looked really bloodied up, and the woman leading them, a sheep half breed with purple hair like mine, carried a blood stained grey coat, one adorned with gold buttons and shining epaulettes and lapels. The sheep herself was dressed in the same sky blue and blood red uniforms that her colleagues wore, except that she wore a white woollen hat with a small purple bow on it. I recognized her, but I hoped that she wouldn't recognize me. I tried to back up in my doorway, until I remembered that I was already against the door, and as far as I could go back. I just went with waiting to see if they would pass me by without incident. No such luck.

The woman noticed me and, while her friends were still laughing and walking, she sauntered over to my improvised rain shelter and greeted my with her usual large smile, acting almost as innocently as she looked, which wasn't a lot seeing as she had a two black eyes and a nasty gash on her forehead, as well as her silky hair being matted with blood. I just knew that the blood wasn't just her own. When she was close enough to me, but still within a safe distance to her friends, she began to speak to me.

"Ah! Hello Comrade Toothy! Such a lovely rainy day, isn't it?" she asked me, seemingly forgetting that I hate her or her friends calling me 'Comrade'. I somehow manage to resist telling her that now, or replying with a snarky comment about how I hated the rain. Instead, I just replied as simply as I could. I really wanted to avoid a confrontation at this point.

"It's alright, I suppose." Brilliant. Nothing she could use to start an argument with me with. I'll just let her lead the conversation for now, at least until I could make an excuse to leave her politely.

"Alright?" she exclaimed, almost in shock at the blasé way that I had decided to look at the day with. "It is a most excellent day, Comrade! Especially for the People's Socialist Party of the Empire!" she laughed. It was a soft laugh, with a sweet almost childlike quality to it. I almost shuddered at it. One could never have imagined that someone as sweet and innocent looking as her could be a part of such a brutal and viscous group of people. The People's Socialist Party of the Empire, or the P.S.P.E, were well known for their underhand methods for getting more power, and for their violence in order to achieve their goals. It was because of their goals that many people referred to them as the Communists, or the Reds, which was apparently the proper thing to call them in polite society, if you ask any of the higher ups in the imperial government. Many of the workers and the unions love them just for the equality to all that they preached.

I quietly swallowed, and decided to ask her why it was such a good day. She would only begin telling it to me anyway, whether I asked or not.

"So," I began, swallowing again slightly, hating myself already for what I was going to say next, "_Comrade Lammy _, why is it an excellent day for the P.S.P.E?" I really didn't want to know, and I really hated calling people Comrade, but I didn't want her to create a scene simply because I forgot the stupid title that every member of the party gave each other. No wonder people called them Communists.

She smiled widely, and seemed overly pleased with herself. "I'll have you know," she began, folding her arms over her chest in that arrogant, over confident way that she had always had, even when she was younger. She continued, "That we routed a bunch of those bastard Fascists down at the waterfront, and," she held the grey coat up to me to show off her trophy from the skirmish, "And look what I've got to show for it!"

I gulped. The grey coat was a Commander's coat, and the fact that it belonged to one of the Fascists was bad. Very bad. The P.S.P.E are the enemies of the Fascists, and they're always fighting with each other. In fact, the riot a couple of weeks ago on this street was little more than an overly large fight between the two that got out of hand, so much that the royal guard had to be called in. I made sure that I stayed clear of the main street since then. At least, until today. But today was different.

I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to point out the sheer stupidity of taking the uniform from a possible dead member of the Fascists, officially called the Nationalist People's Party of the Empire. The N.P.P.E for the acronym's sake, and the Grey coats to the polite members of society. As much as I disliked the P.S.P.E, I had an even greater aversion for the N.P.P.E. While the P.S.P.E were little more than violent thugs, they all wanted equality for the hundreds of different types of Half Breeds. The N.P.P.E were well organized, and violent, but they wanted a few selected groups of Half Breeds to control the rest, and declared that genocide was the perfect tool to remove 'Unpure' races from Empire and, ultimately, the world. And, unfortunately, Beaver Half Breeds weren't on the list of the chosen few. That's why I never really wanted to get on the wrong side of them. Not that I want to be on the wrong side of the P.S.P.E either.

So, rather than saying something that would get me taken away and beaten to death, I simply nodded in acknowledgement, and kept quiet.

"And do you know the best part, Comrade?" she asked me, leaning in as if she was about to reveal to an amazing secret. I quietly replied to this:

"No. I don't." She would tell me. She's always the type that would boast about even the smallest victories. Frankly, I don't really care for that. Well, I don't really care from her anyway, so that's alright then.

"Well…This jacket," she held it by the shoulders to show the front of it to me fully, and I finally saw all the golden inlay and the medals that still graced the front of the jacket. I gulped slightly in worry. The jacket looked like that of a general, or a general's daughter at least….Oh god…

They didn't, did they?

"Belongs, or rather did, belong to the bloody daughter of the Fascist's leader!" She laughed again, while I just stood there, gobsmacked. I resisted the urge to just grab Lammy and shout at how god awfully stupid hurting _his _daughter was. I wasn't friendly with Lammy, but that didn't mean that I wanted to see her beaten to death in a back alley with tire irons and wooden bats just because of her one stupid idea to get more favour with in the Commies. Even if the Fascists didn't take direct revenge against her, then no doubt she'd just be harmed in the collateral fallout of the fighting between the two groups. And then, who knows?

I try to talk, but the words fail me at this moment. Looking at Lammy, I see a slight confusion in her eyes as she pondered my –no doubt-horrified expression. I don't think that she realizes the gravity of this situation, until I see a flash of realization in her eyes. Her confusion disappears, and she returned to the smile.

"Oh, don't look so worried Comrade!" she pauses, slinging the jacket over her shoulders before placing her hands on her hips, "We didn't kill her! Just a spot of fighting, that's all!" Again, I wasn't going to point out that even just fighting with the Fascists was a death wish but, then again, so was fighting with this lot. I looked back to her, and somehow managed to get a small smile on my face for her, as if I'm pleased for her. I think I can safely say that I'm not. Not in the slightest.

She continues to look at me for a few more moments, before glancing at her watch. She gasped, which took me by surprise slightly. She looked back at me.

"We really need to be going! I'm sorry that I can't stay and talk with you more, but I have to give meet with my Premier, and also give this jacket to her. Anyway, goodbye Comrade Toothy!" she turned away, and began to walk quickly down the street, completely ignoring the still pouring rain. Suddenly, she turned back to me and called,

"And remember, Comrade, that the offer to join the party is still up for you!" and with that, she disappeared down the street.

I cringed, and reminded myself that I have no intention on this earth to join any of the parties, especially not the P.S.P.E. I shuddered, not just from the cold, but also of what the world was coming to now. But Lammy worrying about the time reminded me of something: I needed to get to the Diner and see my friend.

I sighed, and looked down the street, just to make sure that Lammy and her thugs weren't just waiting to ambush me and drag me of to be force to be a loyal party member. When I saw that the close was clear, I left my rain cover, and ran down the street as fast as I could.

A few minutes later, I'd reached the entrance of the 'Night Bird' Diner. It was a really nice place, although I hadn't been here since I was a child with my father. I can still remember sitting on the soft red chairs that seem to be a staple in these places, looking out of the huge glass windows onto the sunny street, watching people happily go about their day to day business. I couldn't help but sigh at the memory. It seemed so long ago. The city wasn't like that, not anymore at least. I tried not to think about the past anymore, especially about this place. It only brought back the painful memory of my last visit here. I shuddered, and I could feel tears start to well up in my eyes. I swore silently to myself, and brushed the tears from my eyes, before entering the building. At least then I could be finally out of the rain.

As I stood in the entrance, I looked around at who was in the place. I could only see a three people, one of which was my friend. The others were the waitress and the chef, both of which just stood behind the counter, chatting away lazily, ignoring my rain soaked appearance. I noticed that the waitress was an armadillo half breed, while the chef appeared to be some sort of dog half breed, quite possible a pug. At least he wasn't a Chihuahua. Annoying little buggers with a napoleon complex the size of Texas. But, I digress. I removed my light purple coat and draped it on the coat rack by the door. I walked past the two behind the counter, both who just continued to ignore me, and went to sit with my friend.

His neon green hair, always with bits of candy stuck in it, was unmistakable. He just watched me with one brown eye as I sat down opposite him, while his green eye watched the display of cakes and sweet treats that was on display on the counter. He had a large worried smile on his face, something that I knew he'd explain when he began talking. I noticed that he was wearing his usual bright green dungarees, with a lighter green long sleeved shirt on underneath it. As I've just mentioned, there was candy stuck in his messy hair but, for some unexplainable reason that made me like him more, even with all his annoying antics, and his addiction for anything sweet. I smiled at him.

"Hello, Nutty. How have you been?" I started with. After talking to Lammy, I felt a lot calmer now that I was with someone I knew I could be safe with. He just grinned inanely at me, before speaking quickly in his usual hyperactive way.

"I'm doing fine Tooth! Just fine! I mean, as fine as one could be!" he paused, and seemed to slow himself down. "And how have you been?" he tagged on the end, as if to not make himself seem rude. He looked around quickly, as if to make sure no one was listening in. As far as I could tell, no one was.

"I've been doing well. Not much to say really." I finished their. Memories of this place were starting to come back to me, and I really wanted to get out of here was soon as possible. I could tell that Nutty knew that.

"Listen, Toothy," he sounded sincere when he spoke this time, which surprised me. Nutty was never a person who could be sincere. I doubted that he even knew the meaning of the word.

He continued; "I'm sorry that we had to meet here, but it's the safest place to be if you're meeting someone. I mean, I know that you haven't come here since-" I cut him off. I could feel the tears coming back.

"Since my dad's death, I know." I sighed. I was twenty-one this year, and it would be about six years since my dad was killed in the first battle for Chicago. I still remembered him fondly, and this was the one place that I and he spent the most time at. It was in this place that I also received the news of his death. Direct from one of the top generals – the very leader of the Fascists. My father was high ranking, although he never told me what position in the army he was, but I always believed that he would still be here. I miss him, and felt angry at the people that sent him to his death.

I sighed and brushed the tears away again. I wanted this over quickly.

"So why did-" I was interrupted by the door being kicked opened, and five people marched in. At first I thought it was Lammy and her friends, coming in to demand free food like the communists do at every eatery. But when I saw the grey uniforms, and the black armbands, I knew who they were. Men from the N.P.P.E. I turned pale, and looked at Nutty, who was just as shocked as I was. A quick look at the chef and waitress told me that they had similar sentiments to me.

The men just stood there for a few moments, while their leader, a man dressed in full grey military uniform with a short military capelet draped over his shoulders, looked around the place, his one eye cold, and a cruel sharp toothed smile growing across his scratched face. He was tall, although that could just be because of the sharp metal peg legs that replace his original legs, just below his knees. His long jacket was dark grey because of the rain, which dripped slowly of the bottom of it, while various medals and honours adorned his chest. Long sleeves fell just over the wrists, and I noticed that his right hand had been replaced by a cruel metal hook that glinted evilly in the light of the Diner. A grey peaked cap sat on his long turquoise hair, and on the front of it was a small silver emblem, signifying his rank within the party. His eye was turquoise as well, while the other one was covered by a black and gold coloured eye patch. I kept watching him, before he began to speak to the chef, of all people.

"Pug, I need to talk to you." He said in a cold voice. His eye never strayed from the half breed, and this caused the latter to shift uncomfortably.

"A-Admiral Russell…W-What could I do for y-you on this fine d-" The admiral sharply cut him off.

"You can cut the crap, you stupid communist _unreinen!" _ He yelled. I gulped quietly, and sank down in my seat, lest the admiral turned on me or Nutty once he was done with the pug. You see, 'unreinen' is the name that the fascist higher ups have for any race that isn't part of their overall plan. And as I've mentioned before, us beavers aren't on the list for 'good' races. And neither are squirrels, sheep, any type of dog and probably about 99% of the other thousand or so half breed types. Plus, Admiral Russell, of the N.P.P.E's north pacific fleet, has a certain preference to inflict the party's ideology on those groups…often in violent ways. Well, at least he isn't head of the Secempo – the Fascist's police force. Now, those were the people that you didn't want to cross in the N.P.P.E.

The chef was panicking, his beady little eyes looking from the admiral, to the waitress, to us, then back, as if he was hoping that one of us would get him out of the trouble he was in. "Listen…A-Admiral….I don't know w-what you're on about…" he trailed off, all the while trying to keep a large smile on his face. The admiral just glared at him with his one good eye, and began to move closer to the pair behind the counter. Oddly enough, I actually know how the admiral came to lose his eye. It happened during the naval battle that happened just off the coast of Oahu, between this empire – or rather, the fascist party- and the Kingdom of Hawaii. Let's just say that it didn't go well, seeing as the kingdom is stronger than ever, and the fleet has only just recovered from the battle which happened roughly five years ago. Russell lost that eye because of shrapnel from the H.S.M.S Cain – the cruiser exploded due to a well-placed shell. Her Majesty was not impressed to say the least.

"You may not know what, but I know two things. Number one: You are an old supporter the P.S.P.E, and as such, deserve to be removed from this world," he spat, moving closer still, his peg legs clicking on the floor. The pug began to fidget and panic more, but the waitress just stood there next to him, cold, unmoving. I couldn't decide which was worse: The Admiral, or this girl. For now, I think I'll go for the admiral. He continued;

"And secondly, you were the one that tipped the Red shirts to the location of our Lady, in the hope they would kill her. How do you plead?" he demanded, leaning on the counter.

_Crap_. I thought silently to myself. So this was how Lammy and her thugs – nicknamed the red shirts due to the colour of their clothing underneath their heavy coats – knew where _His _daughter would be. God…that pug is not going to live long. Heck, I'm now surprised that he's lived this long. The pug in question began to stammer out an explanation:

"P-Please…T-That wasn't me! I-I would never do anything like that….P-Please…Y-You've gotta believe m-me!" he said, his voice sounding dangerously panicky. I actually almost felt sorry for him. _Almost._

Admiral Russell continued to lean on the counter, thinking for a moment, before going to fish something out of his long coat pockets. While he was doing that, he began to talk. His voice was calmer, and had a cold edge to it that sent shivers down my spine.

"Listen…I can tell that you're lying so how about you tell me the truth, and I'll give you this-" he pulled his hand out his pocket, revealing a large golden coin. Honestly, I've never seen a half breeds eyes light up quicker than that pugs did. But, I can understand why. What the Admiral was holding was a golden eagle, roughly worth a thousand bronze eagles, or about four hundred and seventy-five old U.S dollars. Russell continued; "So, how does that sound?"

I was slightly confused about what was going on. I've never seen a fascist, let alone a high ranking fascist, try and broker a deal with a communist, especially one who's just been accused of causing an incident between the two parties. Something wasn't right, but I was not about to risk my skin to raise this point. I was about to turn back and continue talking to Nutty, but when I looked, he was too engrossed in the events unfolding less than three metres from us. I sighed quietly, and turned back to the Admiral.

"W-Well, that sounds great. But, I was telling the truth. I-I had nothing to do with it." He stood proudly, smiling at the Admiral, having a sense that he's managed to get away with it. And surprisingly, Russell seemed to buy it. He hung his head, sighed, and looked back to the proud pug. He shook his head softly, and began to speak.

"Well, I'm sorry to have come in and troubling you then. Must have gotten the wrong information then. We'll be going then." He said, dejectedly, gesturing to the four grey clad soldiers behind him. The chef just continued to smile, and began to speak in a confident tone, glancing at the waitress and us, just to see if we were watching his triumph.

"It's alright, Admiral. It seems that even the military commanders of this empire can make mistakes!" he joked on the end, getting a sad smile out of the Admiral, and a stifled laugh from Nutty. I glanced around at him, to see that he was just supressing his laughter at the Admiral. You see, Nutty has quite the dislike for the Fascists, ever since they murdered his mother, and he loves to just laugh and make fun of them whenever he can. The only reason that he doesn't seek active vengeance against the N.P.P.E is probably because of his sometimes near crippling addiction to sugar taking over his life most of the time. If it wasn't for that, he'd probably joined the P. , just to beat the living hell out of them whenever possible. I felt sorry for him, but now was not the time to be laughing at such an esteemed member of the party, especially one who's just been outsmarted like this. I glare at Nutty briefly, before looking back to Russell. He didn't seem to notice Nutty or me, which was good. He began to speak softly.

"Well, like I promised…" he trailed off, and placed the Golden Eagle on the counter in front of him. I saw the pugs eyes light up even more, and watch him reach greedily towards the coin. But, as soon as he placed his hand on the precious coin, there was a flash of metal, and a scream.

Russell had impaled the half breeds hand to the counter with his hook. The pug began to flail helplessly, and was screaming in pain. The Admiral looked at him cruelly, before laughing at his pain. I grimaced at the scene, barely noticing that the waitress was still unmoving, as if nothing was happening in front of her. It was quite unnerving.

"I know for a fact that you're lying. The waitress told us herself. How do you think we knew to come here?" he used his free hand to gesture at the waitress, who now moved, if just to look down at her feet in what I could only presume was shame. All eyes turned to her, as if they were imploring her to reveal the truth behind the matter. The pugs fear filled eyes looked at her, full of confusion and disbelief. She spoke timidly.

"I-It's true. I-I informed the N.P.P.E earlier today." The pug looked like he couldn't believe his ears.

"B-But Joyce…Why?" he implored her, before screaming as Russell twisted his hook deeper into his hand.

"Yes, Joyce, Why?" The Admiral mockingly said, just to cause a little more hurt to the pug before him.

"Because, Samuel… I'm tired of the passes you make towards me. I hate working with you. I hate working in this Diner. I hate being in this god forsaken city! I just want to be back in Texas, and these Fascists promised me that, if I turn in any members of the P.S.P.E looking to cause harm to them. And considering what you've done, I think they'll grant me that wish no doubt. That's why I've handed you to a near certain death Samuel. That's why." She said it quietly, yet profoundly. We all just looked at her, before Russell savagely yanked his hook out of the pug's hand, causing me to grimace yet again. I was never a person that was good around blood.

The pug drew his bleeding hand towards his chest, cradling it, while Russell smiled cruelly again, and slid the coin towards Joyce, who took it begrudgingly. With one swift gesture, Russell motioned for his soldiers to take the cowering pug. Quickly, they marched behind the bar, grabbed him, and began to drag him kicking and screaming out the Diner. Before he was out the door, he turned to Joyce and yelled; "I trusted you! You were the only person I could trust, Joyce! How does it feel? Betraying a friend?"

Joyce stood numbly, and continued to stare at the floor in shame. She began to softly sob.

"Take him to Archduke Place! We'll get more information out of him there!" The Admiral called to his soldiers, just to get pleas of mercy from the struggling pug. And with a final movement, he was dragged out the Diner, and into the lashing rain. I shuddered at the mention of Archduke Place. It was a large mansion, that's been converted into the N.P.P.E headquarters. It's where any dissenters to the party are taken to, and they're never seen again. No one with any real sense goesnear that place. And with good reason.

Russell watched the man get dragged from the Diner, before turning to the sobbing waitress. He contemplated her for a few , brief seconds, before he began comfort the crying women.

"You've done the right thing Joyce. It's people like you that we need to keep the P.S.P.E at bay from our doors, and on behalf of the party, I thank you. I will personally oversee your save passage to the Free Nation of Texas…" he trailed off as he walked to follow the pug out the Diner, before turning slightly, just as he reached the door.

"Good luck, Joyce. And a quick word of advice: Don't fraternise with the Unreinen. It'll only lead to trouble." And with that, he walked out the door to the Diner and out of sight in to the storm.

Joyce continued to sob to herself, and I turned back to the shocked Nutty, looking at him. I didn't feel sorry for her. But I didn't feel sorry for the Pug either. I just wanted to stay out of that. But one thing was certain; I think the girl is worse than the Admiral. For all his cruelty, he would never betray someone like that. No one in the N.P.P.E would. I guess that one good thing you could say about them.

"Fuckin' bastards" Nutty swore under his breath quietly, but loud enough for me to hear. I was going to say something to him, perhaps an argument about how the Pug had brought it on himself. I mean, what was he thinking? What did he think would happen? That the N.P.P.E would just let it all go? But, before I could say anything, Nutty decided to helpfully continue.

"I hate those…those…" he trailed off, and sighed, exasperated at the futility of it all. Again, before I could speak again, he continued. I could hear the anger rising in his voice.

"I mean, they make our lives a living hell, what with the ideas they follow! They all deserve to burn in hell!" he practically yelled the last part, causing me to flinch. I could see what he was saying; the N.P.P.E were often compared to devils and demons by their enemies, and their methods of violence and torture are despised by most people outside the party, and their Ideology practically stated that extermination of lesser groups is the way to a utopia of the 'true Half Breeds', as they poetically call themselves. But he wasn't saying any of that out of a disagreement with the way they worked. No, he was saying that out of anger for what they've done to him. For all of Nutty's happy-go-luck sugar high happiness, he's suffered terribly at the hands of the N.P.P.E; his father was beaten to death in an alleyway just for being a squirrel. The rest of his family was evicted from his home, their money taken and they were forced to live on the streets. Nutty's mother was executed by the bastards for stealing from one of their protected shops. Nutty's other brothers and sisters either died, joined the P.S.P.E or were taken by the N.P.P.E for 'correction'. As I've said, the only reason he hasn't taken revenge is because of that stupid addiction of his. Sometimes I pity him, other times I despair.

He paused for a moment, thinking about what obscenities to call the Fascists. This gave me enough time to get my words in edgewise. I spoke, looking him directly in the eyes. Or at least the eye that wasn't focused on the sweet treats that were on the counter.

"Anyway, Nutty, I want to get out of here as soon as possible, so what do you want to tell me?" He just looked at me incredulously, shocked at the way I've decided to ignore what just happened, or what he was just on about. I just want to leave, and never come back here. And by god, I hope that's it something important, and not the usual stupid things that he comes out with.

He soon shook himself out of the shock, and he began to talk slowly to me.

"Toothy…It's Sniffles…" he trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

I sighed at the mention of Sniffles. Yes, he was a friend, but he had the habit of getting himself into trouble, either with his ideas and plans, or with his military and scientific inventions going awry and killing anyone in a five mile radius. I also found his intelligence and arrogance slightly grating on me, so I never spent large amounts of time with him.

"What about Sniffles?" I asked, not stopping myself sounding slightly bored with the subject. No doubt it would just be Nutty asking me to help with new idea or whatever. Frankly, I couldn't be bothered today.

"He's missing."

_Wait? What?_


End file.
